With just days left in 2013, I’ve been ruminating on the past year and wondering what the future may hold. Personally, it’s been a tumultuous year and a half and I’m hopeful the winds will begin to shift come 2014.
Although life is indeed full of ups and downs, it seems the recent past has had more turbulence than usual. I’ve felt my heart full of joy while I stood upon the highest peaks; And I’ve found myself clawing my way through the deepest, darkest valleys.
During the last 16 months, I unexpectedly lost my “best friend” of 11-plus years – my dog Pumpkin. She was my road trip companion, my 17-pound fierce protector. And though I knew the day would eventually come, I wasn’t prepared for it when she was still so youthful. I have Bailey now, but Pumpkin will always be my “heart dog.”
A few months later, I sat in a hospital room cradling my snugly-wrapped, beautiful newborn nephew, with his perfect fingers and toes. Eventually he “found” his grin, and it made you wonder what he was plotting behind those enormous, greenish-brown eyes.
Early this year, Ryland was diagnosed with Wiskcott Aldrich Syndrome – an autoimmune disease requiring a bone marrow transplant, which he received from his older sister in May. The transplant was a monumental success and doctors said he was ahead of schedule and would likely go home early; but days later, our exhilaration was shattered and my nephew was dead – two days before my brother’s (his father’s) birthday, which will never be the same.
While we all were attempting to wrap our heads around what went wrong, a 27-year-old cousin had a severe asthma attack. Ten days after Ryland’s death, Samantha died.
I’d never spoken at a funeral, and didn’t realize what a toll it would take when I stood up in front of hundreds at Ryland’s service on June 1. And when I thought there was no way I could possibly have any tears or emotion left, more came when I sat in the pew at Sammy’s funeral in Bakersfield a few days later.
By July, I felt drained, completely wiped out emotionally and physically: I battled tremendous anger and sadness, daily headaches, fatigue and random aches, from neck to stomach. Aside from my personal feelings, everything took a toll on family members as well, and we grieved and dealt with things – and continue to do so – in our own ways.
I made my first visit to Ry’s still-unmarked grave in mid-August, hoping to find some inner peace for my heart and mind, some calm for my soul.
And somehow, the solace I desperately needed found me.
The following week, the all-consuming fog slowly began to lift and I literally began to feel things changing: my mind became clearer, my spirit grew stronger.
I hate to admit that I tend to be one of those “glass half empty” folks, but that’s changing, and the change is palpable: several people who know me have commented on the shift in my demeanor. Although I’ve never had a “perky” or “bubbly” personality – that’s just not me – so much appears brighter than it ever has. I feel more content, more grateful, less agitated by little things that are unimportant, things that used to heavily influence my state of mind.
Perhaps my mom summed it up best several weeks ago following a mother-daughter day out: “You seem peaceful.”
Today, as we approach a new year, it’s almost as if there’s an improved me emerging. I’ve always had strong faith, but the past year and a half has significantly tested it – and helped cultivate it. I’ve found a new sense of appreciation for what I have and who I am, a greater sense of gratitude for those special moments with the people who make up my life: family, friends, colleagues – and even acquaintances and strangers who briefly enter my vision and exit just as quickly.
Do I still have a rough day every now and then, and will I have to face deep valleys in the future? Of course. But I hope to hold on to this incredible feeling that “everything is going to be OK” and have the strength to pull out of every one with a greater sense of self.
Here’s wishing all of you – and me – a content and blessed 2014.
